


Talk to my lawyer

by varevare (varebanos)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lawyers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 19:44:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1400191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varebanos/pseuds/varevare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim had been waiting for this case ever since he started out at Gordon & co. Well, not this case, but his first big, important, exclusive case.</p><p>Things never seemed to go as planned, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to my lawyer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winterysomnium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterysomnium/gifts).



"Drake, you got a case."

 

Tim looked up, startled by the papers being suddenly dropped on his desk. He found Ms Gordon frowning down at him -not her “you have disappointed me” frown, but more like “do not disappoint me now”, though Tim didn’t know which of those did he found more terrifying.

 

"I do?" he replied dumbly, which prompted the redhead to let out a sigh and push the files further towards him.

 

"Kind of. Mr Wayne is under arrest, he had some problems with a car, I don’t know the details. Go get him out before he can start considering faster lawyers."

 

Tim’s heart practically stopped beating at that. Wayne? Bruce Wayne? Had he just been assigned to the office’s most important client? It was true it wasn’t an important case, given what Ms Gordon had said, and that she probably had only picked him because Bruce Wayne’s personal lawyer was already at home -like most workers at the office, really. But he would met Bruce Wayne in person! He couldn’t believe his good luck.

 

The office’s lights were already dimmed out, and only Barbara and a couple more interns like Tim remained there finishing up some paperwork. Tim wished it was earlier so he could talk about his assignment with the others. Though it was all for the best, because he knew he’d never arrive on time if he stopped to hear everybody’s advice. Taking only his coat and the papers his supervisor had just given him, Tim ran past the “Gordon & co, Law Office” sign, said goodbye to the security guard, and drove away.

 

The streets around Gotham’s center were practically devoid of traffic, at least in comparison to the rush hour Tim was used to, and it didn’t take him long to arrive to the police station. Even after having taken two wrong turns because of how anxious he was to get there.

 

There wasn’t any signs of disturbance of even paparazzi’s piling up, which Tim guessed would make everything as smooth as possible. After parking as close as he could, Tim checked his hair in the rearview mirror, put on his coat, and got inside the police station.

 

It wasn’t as different from Tim’s office as he might have thought. Way more lively, with way more people, and with a lower budget, but the basics were the same, so Tim walked up to the person who looked like he might be in charge of locking up rich people -basically, the one who was closest.

 

"Hello, my name is Timothy Drake, and I’m Mr Wayne’s representative.” Tim felt strange saying those words. He almost didn’t believe them, but as long as the officer did, things would be fine. “I have come to pick him up."

 

"You look young for a lawyer," the man said. He seemed to be in a good mood, for someone working the night shift, and actually shoot Tim a smile before checking his credentials. "Alright, everything seems correct. Come this way."

 

Tim just nodded and followed him between the tables, without a single person turning to look their way.

 

"Tim, was it?" the police officer chipped as they walked down a hall. "You can call me Dick. You are new, right? Are you sure you will be able to work with him? He’s in a bad mood."

 

"I will manage," Tim replied, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

 

"I hope so. Ah, here we are."

 

Dick opened a metal door and Tim found himself in a sterile-looking interrogation room. Across from the metal table sat a dark skinned boy, probably still a teenager, with his hands cuffed in front of him.

 

Tim knew about the television changing how people looked, but this was a bit extreme.

 

"Took you long enough!" the boy yelled, standing up and showing his handcuffed hands to Dick. "Where can we get going?"

 

"You aren’t Bruce Wayne," Tim said, too astonished to care the question hadn’t even been directed at him.

 

"Of course not, I’m his son," the boy spat out at Tim, and turned back to the other man. "Where is my lawyer, anyways?"

 

Suddenly, every piece fit. Damian Wayne, illegitimate son of Bruce Wayne, a trouble maker even if not a single scandal had made its way to the magazine’s covers. Ms Gordon and all the paperwork saying “Mr Wayne”, without mention of a full name.

 

It wasn’t his big chance. It was a rite of passage for the new kid. Damn it all.

 

"My name is Timothy Drake, and I am your lawyer," Tim replied before Dick could say anything. If it was a test, well he wasn’t going to back down. "And before we leave I need to know the details of your arrest."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

Damian glared at Tim, making him notice how blue his eyes were. If the magazines didn’t lie, they were exactly like his father’s.

 

Tim shouldn’t be getting distracted.

 

"I said I wanted to know the details of the arrest. I will have to prepare the case and paperwork, and I’m sure you can wait for a couple more of minutes."

 

"Do you even know who are you talking to?"

 

Tim might or might not have shivered at that -really, what was he thinking?!- but before he could say sorry and retract himself Dick interrupted them.

 

"Your lawyer is right, Damian. Better finish this now than having to come back tomorrow. Remember how annoyed you were the other week?"

 

"I wasn’t upset, I was enraged! You have no right to treat me like this!"

 

The change from Mr Wayne to Damian didn’t pass unnoticed by Tim, but he made no comment. Who knew how many times had Dick arrested him. In any case, Tim had listened to enough bickering for the time being. Before the conversation could extend any further he stepped closer and put a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

 

"Let me deal with this, Mr Wayne. You can wait here." Remembering his lessons about offering reassurance to the client, he added: "Don’t worry, you will be home soon."

 

"Do you know who I am?" Damian asked, looking more outraged than before. Tim knew he shouldn’t press any further, but he was tired, and disappointed, and wanted to get this over quickly so he snapped.

 

"By now I definitely do, you haven’t stopped repeating it. And stop saying the same thing over and over, it doesn’t impress me. This isn’t a movie."

 

Someway, somehow, that seemed to have the desired effect, because Damian lowered his hands slowly and didn’t reply. Tim didn’t like the calculating look he got after that, but at least he could work with it while Damian kept silent.

 

"Sorry for the interruption, Officer Grayson," Tim said, turning to look at the older man. "Could you please tell me the details of the arrest now?"

 

Dick, looking almost impressed at how Tim had gotten Damian to shut up, nodded and managed to explain in a few words.

 

"Damian crashed his car into a tree," Tim actually had to glance at Damian to see if he was missing any limbs at that, what in the-, "and I found him. I was close by, finishing my patrol, and I heard the noise. It was around midnight, maybe a bit later. There were no victims but the car, but since it wasn’t the first time Damian has been involved in some kind of incident I checked the alcohol level, and…"

 

"I wasn’t drunk!" Damian interrupted at that.

 

"Not drunk, not dead… you are definitely lucky," Tim mumbled, completely aware that Damian would hear him. "Will you press charges?" He asked Dick.

 

"Not at all," Dick answered, like there had been no interruption whatsoever. "The car was his, and as long as he pays for the tree there’s nothing to lament. It’s just that, well. Letting a well-known minor go back home walking alone, at night, and drunk, didn’t seem like the best idea. If you hadn’t come, my turn ends in an hour so I would have taken him home myself."

 

Damian didn’t look surprised by the news, just slightly exasperated. Definitely not the first time something like that had happened. Tim should look into it later.

 

"Alright, is there anything I need to sign before we leave?"

 

"Sure, one second," Dick replied, and produced an official-looking paper from a folder on the metal table. Tim signed it, and in a minute both him and Damian -now free from the handcuffs and having retrieved his possessions- were being lead out of the police station.

 

The night wasn’t any brighter or warmer than it had been before, and Tim sighed, trying to swallow his disappointment before getting on the car. His big chance had turned out to be just picking up a misbehaving child; no case, not anything. And to top it, he was pretty sure Bruce Wayne’s son disliked him now.

 

At least it hadn’t taken too long.

 

The car was clearly not up to Damian’s standards, because the younger man scrunched up his nose at the sight of it, but Tim was too tired to care and Damian too tired to complain. They got inside without saying anything, and Tim started driving determined to reach Wayne Manor as soon as he could.

 

The city lights flashed past them, reminding Tim of how the lights of the cars entered through his apartment window and painted the walls in whites and reds and blues. He wished he was back there already. He wanted to sleep and forget the “case” and the night and Damian with his piercing eyes staring right at…

 

"What?" Tim finally snapped, not in the mood to be under scrutiny like he was some kind of insect.

 

"Why did you ask for details of the case? None of the other lawyers ever did," Damian asked,  looking away.

 

"Because it’s my job to know those things, Mr Wayne.” Tim said the name with as much venom as he could muster, but Damian didn’t seem to notice.

 

"It delayed us. I could be home already if you hadn’t done that."

 

"You could have been home hours ago if you hadn’t crashed your car into a tree. And by the way, I’m surprised you ended in the station instead of in the hospital or the morgue. What happened exactly?"

 

"I was never at any risk of being injured, that model was a particularly safe prototype. It would take an atomic bomb to harm the driver while he was still inside."

 

"So you didn’t just ruin a car, you ruined a big project and thousands, no, probably millions of dollars?" Tim took a turn a bit too sharply.

 

"I was testing it," Damian protested.

 

"Yes? And what was the alcohol for? To test accurately a drunk driver’s behaviour?" Tim knew he was talking too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. "Wayne Enterprises really is on everything."

 

"It was my prototype, Drake," Damian spat out. "I had the right to take it for a test drive if I wanted to."

 

Tim’s thoughts left him for a moment. His prototype? He had heard a lot about Damian Wayne, but nothing had ever suggested he might be able to… design prototypes of incredibly secure cars. Unless it was the new fashionable pastime for Gotham’s elite, but Tim doubted it.

 

"I didn’t know you designed cars," Tim mumbled before he could bite his tongue.

 

"Well, you look pretty ignorant to me, so I’m not surprised."

 

Repressing a sigh, Tim took care to drive more slowly as they crossed some intersections. Damian had fallen silent once again, and Tim had started believing he’d have a peaceful trip to the Manor -a shame, now that Tim would have liked to ask the younger boy some things- when Damian turned to him again.

 

"You were still working when you were called, right?"

 

"How did you guess?" Reminding Tim of how tired he was as he drove wasn’t the best thing Damian had ever done, but Tim had dealt with worse. "Yes, the interns get all the cool jobs haven’t you heard?"

 

"Is Barbara Gordon your supervisor?" Damian asked, completely ignoring Tim’s quip. "I heard she only makes do that to the people she likes."

 

"Really?" Tim blinked. Was Damian trying to confuse him, or had Barbara really sent him there because he had caught her eye? "Well, I don’t think it matters anymore, in any case. I’m pretty sure I’m getting fired after this."

 

"Why?"

 

Tim risked a glance in Damian’s direction. He wondered if there was any chance Damian wouldn’t present a complaint to Ms Gordon about his behaviour. Maybe Damian thought Tim had been polite enough for his own standards or something like that; he definitely didn’t look as upset as he had in the police station. Remembering that the crashed car had been Damian’s own design, which he probably spent quite a bit of time working on, also explained why might he have been so altered in the first place.

 

"If you lose your job, you could get one at Wayne Enterprises," Damian added without waiting for Tim’s reply.

 

"I- wait, really? Where did you get that idea from?"

 

Damian shrugged.

 

"Well, unlike most of the dumbasses I have to work with daily, you do your job. It would be appreciated."

 

Gaping had never been Tim’s most flattering expression, but he wasn’t able to do anything else. Damian was definitely a box of surprises.

 

Fortunately, Wayne Manor’s gates appeared on sight moments later, saving Tim from having to think up an appropriate response.

 

"Well, here we are," Tim said, stopping the car near the gates. There was only a short walk to the front of the house, and he didn’t intend to go past the fence. "I’m afraid we will have to continue our conversation some other time, Mr Wayne."

 

"Oh, we definitely will," Damian replied, in a tone that Tim couldn’t determine if it was a threat or a promise. "Goodnight, Drake."

 

Damian was already out of the car and opening the gate before Tim could say goodnight back.

 

-

 

"Your client is back, Tim," Stephanie called.

 

Client? Stephanie was completely aware that Tim hadn’t gotten a single case to call his own some he started working there. The fact that he was doing better than Tim himself gave him no right to mock him.

 

"Really? Who is it, Lady Gaga? Tell her to wait there, I’ll see her in a minute."

 

"Well, I don’t know much about Gaga, but this one is a diva just right. You should hurry," Stephanie replied, and Tim knew he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

 

Tim looked up skeptically, but stood up and walked out of his small cubicle. There was a nice meeting room downstairs, perfect for the fancy people they used to work for, and it was there where Stephanie lead him.

 

Before he could get to ask how had he convinced Ms Gordon to let him use the room, though, Tim saw who was inside and his mouth went dry. He had believed Damian wasn’t all that upset when he last saw him, and it had been almost a month! Tim couldn’t believe he had come to get him fired now.

 

That was what he got for trusting a guy he had taken from of jail.

 

"Good morn-"

 

"I fired my assistant," Damian said as soon as Tim stepped inside.

 

Damian was standing right by the door, wearing a black -expensive, Tim’s mind provided- suit and looked more polished than the last time Tim had seen him, though not in a better mood. He probably wanted to leave soon. Tim definitely shared his opinion there, what with the glare and the absolute lack of personal space.

 

"What does that have to do with me?" he asked as soon as he recovered from the surprise. He hated how Damian always seemed to catch him off guard.

 

"It was a good position, and he didn’t even have to do a lot of work," Damian continued, completely ignoring Tim’s question. "His salary was high, he earned more than your supervisor, I think."

 

After a moment, Tim realized Damian was looking at him like he was waiting for Tim to say something.

 

"Why did you fire him, then?"

 

"Well, somehow he thought stealing more money from one of my projects was a good idea."

 

"…oh." If that wasn’t the question Damian had been expecting, then Tim was definitely blank. "Well, I still don’t know what does that have to do with me. I haven’t stolen anything."

 

"You still don’t get it, do you?" Damian replied, and before Tim could answer that no, he did not get why was Damian there, he pushed Tim against the closed door and kissed the lights out of him.

 

Which. Okay. It was definitely better than getting fired. Tim wouldn’t mind meeting Damian more often if every time was like that.

 

"I want you to be my new assistant," Damian declared as soon as the kiss broke.

 

At least Tim had been expecting it this time. He might be oblivious, but not as oblivious as some of his so-called friends insisted. After a moment, he glanced up, trying not to think of how red Damian’s lips were -and his own had to be.

 

"I will have to think about it."

 

He just wanted to see what face Damian made, so sue him.


End file.
